Post by Kevin Evel on Oct 25, 2014 3:21:52 GMT
A Strap Match, huh? A Strap Match? Fine. Bring your worst.
Seth, I questioned the focus of a single-minded man last week, and it seems my suspicion might be right. A Strap Match? What sort of man do you think I am? Do you feel I am the coward-type? Do you think I'm the run-away sort? If you do, Evans, it's going to be an error you won't soon forget, because what you effectively did was chain yourself to the most destructive force Imperial Wrestling has ever seen. Now you can't get away. Now you can't run. Now when you're beaten down and destroyed, you leave the ring when I want you to.
When the bell sounds on your broken body, you'd look up to the lights and thank your stars the match is finally over, but it won't be. When my entrance music chimes over the house speakers, you'll be relieved to suspect the beating to be through, but it won't be. A giant breath of fresh air will hit your lungs when you catch a glance through a swollen cheek bone and see a wave of security come to the ring to save you, but they wont. Nothing will save you – no one will say our night is over but me, and that's the scariest thing about our match at October Revolution.
Everyone I get attached to has their life ruined.
Imagine a perfect home, humble and a little poor, but otherwise perfect. Inside it are the perfect couple, always tired and overworked, but otherwise perfect. There a man and a woman, and they love each other more than all stars in the sky. They couldn't imagine their lives without each other. They smile and share jokes over evening meals, and tease with the future. Maybe a dog. Maybe a couple. Maybe a farm with a giant fenced-in backyard. Hell, even having a little kid of their own sounds like an exciting thing to do now.
Silly banter over dinners turn into serious consideration. The happy, perfect, couple dares to make their lives more perfect, and in nine months they are ready for the new addition. It'll be tough, they know, but it'll be worth it. They don't know how, but it will be.
In retrospect, if someone would have warned the old man, I'm sure as hell he would have reached in and ended it. If someone gave him the choice, I know he would have picked her, and I don't blame him. Without a second thought, he would pluck it out and smash it's skull on the hospital floor. As a young man, he never told me much, but on late nights that drew too long, I could piece together his broken muttering...
He wished it was me instead.
In the beginning, it hurt. I only had the old man, and he could barely stand to look at me without filling up with rage. He was all I could rely on, but I couldn't do so much as earn myself a slap in the head for being close-by. I wanted to learn from him, but all I knew was pain and abandonment, because that what I did to him.
I had ruined his perfect life. His beautiful house was worn out and weathered because of me. His warm home was hostile and angry. Everything he loved, cared for, and worked so hard to create for the future, not just for himself, but for his family-to-be was destroyed by me.
At first, I felt bad. I was sorry. I didn't know what I could do, if anything, to salvage our relationship. I wanted to rush into his arms and tell him I never meant to hurt him. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never wanted to rip out his heart. I wanted to tell him I loved him and, together me and him, we could be happy. We could be overworked and tired, but be happy. We could still have a future to build to, but he refused. To him, there was almost no use. It was as if he main objective as a father, was not raise and guide a young boy into a man, but to remind him of the hell he brought with him and to build a monster.
It didn't long for those feelings to fade away. It wasn't too much longer before I felt I didn't need a father anymore. The wounds scabbed over and dulled away. Eventually, there was just an old man I lived with – not a father, but a roommate. I lived with a tragic echo that made sure I could never take a step or breath without reminding of the cruelty of nature.
He spoke of the sick, twisted, world we lived in. He spoke of jokes no one laughed at. No one was allowed too much pleasure, he would say. No one was allowed to be happy for too long. Mother Nature was a cold-hearted bitch, and her cruel hands knew no prejudice. If nothing else, I was a constant reminder of this, and it agitated him.
This world was rough, but we could be rougher, he said, so the toys went. Fight back, he would shout, when I came home for dinner with a puffy lip. How much more do you need from me, he would ask, although I never understood his question until much later. So I stopped asking and I started fighting, and where I thought a disruptive little boy would tear a home apart, it did little different in ours.
Teachers and later policemen would ask the old man what would possess me to be so aggressive and unfriendly, and he often gave little excuse or explanation. He's fucked up in the head, he would say, just full of hell. He's got a real knack for destruction. He's knows nothing else. Words, overheard, were probably meant to insult me, but I took them as back-handed compliments, or rather standards I was to live by. Yeah, I am fucked up in the head. Yeah, I am full of hell. Yeah, I know how a thing or two about destroying life, and I couldn't give a fuck about anything else...
Some of us were just made for that sort of shit.
Years later, I couldn't give a fuck about this man and his perfect fucking home. I couldn't care about his plans for the future or what he dreamt of in his sleep. I couldn't care about those who he loved. There came a point where I so desperately wanted to put the nail in the coffin. I so wanted to show him what sort of monster he help create, but some weakness inside me – some sort of sick mercy kept certain words off my tongue. Perhaps I wasn't done with him. Perhaps I haven't done enough. Perhaps there was a better time. The world still stands after all. I suppose when there is nothing left to see and stand together with walls fire surrounding us, I'll tell him...
I'll tell him I wish there was a way I could have killed him in childbirth as well.
To be honest, it wouldn't really bother him. I know this, because we are very similar people now, and I see such a statement as nothing but wasted breath. It's unnecessary now. What's done is done, and for us, there's nothing lower. Nothing can be done to change anything that has been done. There is nothing built to protect. There is no dream to fight for. There is no promise or future. There is only darkness and hatred. There is only bitterness and cruelty. There is only evil in this world, at least for us. I know this for him because we were tied together. We were attached. Umbilically, we were strapped together, and together, we are alone.
Seth, you've sentenced me to a Strap Match, and I plead guilty in the first degree. Be the tall oak branch I can hang from. Be the anchor to sink this wretch to the bottom of the sea. Be the one that satisfies the old man, and quell his bloodlust. End my path of destruction and put me down, Seth, because, make no mistake, if you don't, you can watch your precious Imperial Wresting crumble around you. Your path and your stage for revenge will dissolve in a cloud of smoke and chaos. You will fail your precious, darling, who-gives-a-fuck, and you will be haunted by the soundtrack of my laughter.
Don't think of yourself that special. You're not. You're nothing of a priority to me. You're a segment. You're a piece of the puzzle. You're but a single brick that I plan to remove, so when I detonate the charges, Imperial will be paralyzed in terror with how little it had to stand on. Then, gamer, this whole house of cards will come down. Kings, queens, aces, and jerk-offs - every remnant – will be driven into disrepair. It all comes apart, like your ridiculous notion of revenge.
I don't hate you, Seth. You're numb as hell, but I don't hate you. You're the confident type that makes me clench a tight fist and hope you'd wake up out of a coma little less self-righteous. You boy scouts piss me off incessantly, but only because you refuse to see the world away from your kaleidoscopic slant. You refuse to see the world for what it is. You neglect the indifferent heart of Mother Earth and her cold embrace. You see the light but ignore the shadow it casts, just past the safety of your guiltless promise. If only you saw – if only you could see things my way – I wouldn't have to do this to you. I wouldn't have to force you to see...
You need me.
For a moment, Seth, let's imagine there was no Kevin Evel in the way. For argument’s sake, let's say there is no one – no one but you and your god-devil. You two are standing above oblivion. There is no Age of X or anyone that oppose them. It's just you two, and endless darkness.
There, pour your hatred into that man. Empty your tortured heart into rage and deliver judgement like none other. Take your demon to the ground and strike the face that's been haunting your every dream. Shout your damnation at the top of your lungs. Lose your breath in a wave of tears and blood splatter, and as your lungs burn for a moment to inhale, fight off the urge until you know the devil has stopped his. Destroy him, Seth! Exact your revenge! Do it! Do it! Do it! Damn you, Seth, do it!
But then what?
What then, Seth? What happens when you draw and quarter your nemesis? What's going to happen next? Will the world be returned to peace? Will all the pain and suffering be erased? Will you turn back the hands of time? Will it repair the damage done? Will it give you a second chance to do it right the first time?
Will you be happy?
You'll give me that shit-eating smile of a response, at first, but we all know how aching hearts feel. It's why everyone here hates to see me smile to much. They know why I can't stop. Everything is such a fucking joke. Everyone thinks their little lives are so important and valuable. They think their families are worth fighting for. They think legacies last long enough to destroy each other in the ring every week, but nothing matters. Nothing matters at all. Eventually, the survival rate of everything reaches zero. Despite our hardest efforts, everything we prize and hold so dear turns to ashes in our hands...
So why fight it?
Why cling onto the your last vestiges of innocence and morality? It won't save you. It won't correct anything. If anything else, you'll realize the tremendous amount of time you wasted chasing to fix something that never had a cure.
Let me do you and your nice, little, lady a favor and let me stop you from wasting you time anymore. Forget your vengeful ways. Forget the past and move on to the future. Forget worrying about correcting the damage done and fill your present and future with better days. Fill the rest of your lives together with happiness, far, far, away. Let me help you remove you from this, because you wondered it yourself, what were you before this?
What were you before Angel?
Nothing, was it? Was it nothing you said? If you were truly nothing before this, is that not what you'll become after? When your dragon is slain, what will you become? What will you be reduced to? If nothing else, you should fall to your knees Angel gave you meaning to your pathetic, miserable, life. If you were nothing, you should be thankful his violence entered your life and gave life to your bleeding heart that was otherwise dead.
Just turn around and go away, Evans. There is nothing in this direction that works in your benefit. There is nothing but heartache here. There is nothing but frustration and hatred. There is nothing but the cold heart of nature. There's nothing but what is needed. Continuing on only guarantees two things: that you truly do not want to introduce any happiness into your life and that you understand you need the darkness just as much as you need your light...
You need us - more than your woman.
I hope you're starting to understand my words now, Seth. I hope you're starting to see. Do you see how the steel sharpens the steel, and without it, you're quite the dull blade? I think you do, which is why I think you have no business with Angel or the Age of X. You shout a lot of nonsense and make a lot of threats, but you really have no plans to bring them any real harm. You'll spare them. You'll make some silly point that you're the bigger man, but the honest truth is that you never wanted to destroy anything. You never really wanted revenge. You don't want to punish anyone, because you don't want to cash in all this motivation and meaning. You don't really want to rid yourself of all this justification.
This is where we are so different, Seth. This is why I feel so sorry for you. This is why I came to you with such harshness and violence. I have to do this for you – you need it – because you don't see, where I am needed in this world to balance the dark from the light, you need the dark. You are needed only to you own lies. You are only necessary to a fabricated world where revenge brings you peace and solace, and we know it won't. Otherwise, you are nothing, and in other words, you're not needed. You're unnecessary...
And you need to go.
You can trust me to do that for you, Seth. You can rely on me to make the hard choices, the rest of the these so-called friends and allies wouldn't do for you. They see you struggling to hold on to the last strands of humanity, and they do nothing. They watch but don't move. True friends they are, I am sure, but maybe you're not in the market for one of those sort of friends. Maybe you don't need a friend more than you need someone who actually cares – someone who sees the damage you're doing to yourself and the ones around you and has the bravery and mercy to end it for you.
That's me, Evans. I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't allow you to do it to yourself. That sort of self-destruction and illogical purpose, well, it's unnecessary. It's not needed. You don't need it, and you shouldn't be bothered to have it. Let's be honest, you'll be happy without it. You and your little, lady, can move on from all this and start fresh. This one thing you have with Angel doesn't have to control every breath you take. You can escape it, because it'll either kill you or you'll become nothing once you complete it. There are alternatives.
You're the depressed kid that takes a little too many pills and mixes it with a little too much alcohol. You wish it's your last day on this wretched earth, but you either wake up in bed perfectly fine or you're again in the emergency room getting detoxed. You try and try and try to end it all, but it just doesn't happen. It's to the point your failure to even end your own life makes you more depressed, so before it gets to that level, let me help you. Let me introduce some mercy and thoughtfulness into you life. Let me help you end it.
The rest of the locker room wouldn't do this for you. People like Mike would worry their reputations would be tarnished, helping you in this sort. They would wonder what the rest of the world would think of them. Would they still be cheered, they would wonder. Would they still like me? Here's the thing, Seth: I don't care about them. I don't if they cheer or boo. I don't care what is said behind my back or muttered under their breaths. I only care about your life and the life of your lady. You too deserve better than this...
You need better than this.
I'm a shadow. I'm a monster. I know I am not liked around here. I know I am not wanted and I really get under some people's skin, but I don't care. I know I have a purpose and I know my job is priceless to those who need it. I am the grim reaper that the sickest grandparents smile and praise when he finally arrives in the hospital room. I am the coma that spares you from the pain. I am the needle of death that painlessly puts you to an eternal sleep. I am the quickest of neck snaps. I am a blessing to the most desperate, and you know you're exactly the sort.
Evans, guess how many Angel Blake's there are in the world? Guess how many vile creatures lurk around every corner? I know I don't have to tell you this world is crawling with such filth. He's a dime a dozen, Seth, but there's only one of you. Don't waste the only you you have on just one version of something that's walked this stupid planet a million times before. It's not worth it.
Even I know I am not one of a kind. My voice is nothing new. I speak now on my own, but you also hear me deep inside your own mind. The voices of reason that battle inside your mind reflect the words I suggest to you now. What I plea to you is nothing new. What I've said you've said to yourself a hundred times already. It's already made it's course, circling your mind. It's already kept you up late at night. It's haunted you, every time you wonder what is the right thing to do.
Fuck it all, Seth. Burn it all down to the ground, Seth. That's the right thing to do. Run away. Run away, holding hands with your love and never look back. Don't turn around. Never mind the screams and the blasts, never mind the laughing, just run and think of your future. Just run forward and be happy, because some of us are not as lucky as you. Some of us are not born lucky. Some of us are not given the chance to run away. Some of us are tied down to conflict and destruction. Some of us were born never given a chance.
I was born into a world that detested me, Mr. Seth Evans. Do you have any idea what that's like? Even for a fucking second, can you wrap that stupid, fucking, mind around the pain and trauma that does to a young kid, like I was? Do you think for a fucking second I would have ran away, if I could? Do you think for a fucking second I would have embraced the love of another, if I had any? I would have, Seth. Given the chance, I would have traded spots with someone lucky like you. I would have traded my best days for your worst. I would have killed to have your life. Right now, I wish I you, presented the opportunity to change directions before things get worse.
But I am not, Seth! I am Kevin Scum-Sucking Evengelos and no matter how evil I fucking want to be, it's never as fucking demonic as taking your own flesh and blood and turning him into this. I am what I am and I'll never have the opportunity to be anything else. I am marked for death. I am unfortunate. I am the child of not loving parents, but revenge and vindication. I was not brought into a family that loved me and cherished me. I shattered one upon arrival and brought upon the wrath of the world to have mine shattered as payment. I was spat upon. I was hit. I was degraded and driven through a mold that formed me into what you now call this human cancer as Kevin Evel.
Now I am what I am. I am a mutant. I am a deformed mess of shambling aggression, exiled from the warmth of the light. I was cast out and expelled, never to be invited back. I call the dark home now and I keep my hands warm off the furnaces of hell.
At October Revolution, Seth, you best believe you will be chained and hooked to the scariest thing you've ever seen in your life, and you best believe I will come for your throat. I won't spare a second on you, Seth, because it's that dire. You don't have to fail yourself and your woman. You don't have to fail your future. You still have one. You still have the option to stop it all. It's not late. It's never too late for someone lucky like you. You still have so much promise. You will still be accepted in the light, just turn around and run...
I'll make you, if I have to.
I'll tear you apart before I let you turn yourself into nothing. I'll put you in a body cast before I let you put yourself in a body bag. I'll fight you until the end of time, just so you can have a better future. Seth, you don't see it like me. It doesn't have to happen like this...
Imagine it, Seth. Imagine you escaped this burning building before it collapsed on you. Imagine you're far away with your lady. Imagine all the video games you two could play together, laughing and mashing buttons. Even on your darkest days together, when the heaviest rain and wind takes the power out, when all the darkest topics are brought back up to the surface, it'll be better then. Even when the rain hits the windows and she brings up Imperial Wrestling and Angel, and you don't know exactly what to say. You stutter and fade away from thought. The guilt would paralyze you, but just as you start to regret your choice, her soft head rests on your shoulder and tells you she's proud of you. You failed her, you'd say, you were a coward, but she wouldn't agree. There is evil all around us, she would tell you. There is evil just inches off our loving embrace, but you chose to spend our time together instead of fighting it all off.
It's funny, she'll laugh, Kevin Evel breaking your neck was the best thing that could have ever happened to us. You would have never listened otherwise. He's a big asshole and he never had a good thing to say about anyone, but he has his reasons. He's a tortured soul. He killed his mother in childbirth, you know that? And even stranger his father never forgave him for it. Now that's what's truly horrible. I'm so glad we were never that unfortunate. We were lucky to have the choice to change our lives for the better. We were lucky to ever run into Evel. What he did for us wasn't the most elegant or conventional, but you know, Seth Honey, if nothing else, we both know, in his own twisted, sick, way...
IT WAS NECESSARY!
Seth, I questioned the focus of a single-minded man last week, and it seems my suspicion might be right. A Strap Match? What sort of man do you think I am? Do you feel I am the coward-type? Do you think I'm the run-away sort? If you do, Evans, it's going to be an error you won't soon forget, because what you effectively did was chain yourself to the most destructive force Imperial Wrestling has ever seen. Now you can't get away. Now you can't run. Now when you're beaten down and destroyed, you leave the ring when I want you to.
When the bell sounds on your broken body, you'd look up to the lights and thank your stars the match is finally over, but it won't be. When my entrance music chimes over the house speakers, you'll be relieved to suspect the beating to be through, but it won't be. A giant breath of fresh air will hit your lungs when you catch a glance through a swollen cheek bone and see a wave of security come to the ring to save you, but they wont. Nothing will save you – no one will say our night is over but me, and that's the scariest thing about our match at October Revolution.
Everyone I get attached to has their life ruined.
Imagine a perfect home, humble and a little poor, but otherwise perfect. Inside it are the perfect couple, always tired and overworked, but otherwise perfect. There a man and a woman, and they love each other more than all stars in the sky. They couldn't imagine their lives without each other. They smile and share jokes over evening meals, and tease with the future. Maybe a dog. Maybe a couple. Maybe a farm with a giant fenced-in backyard. Hell, even having a little kid of their own sounds like an exciting thing to do now.
Silly banter over dinners turn into serious consideration. The happy, perfect, couple dares to make their lives more perfect, and in nine months they are ready for the new addition. It'll be tough, they know, but it'll be worth it. They don't know how, but it will be.
In retrospect, if someone would have warned the old man, I'm sure as hell he would have reached in and ended it. If someone gave him the choice, I know he would have picked her, and I don't blame him. Without a second thought, he would pluck it out and smash it's skull on the hospital floor. As a young man, he never told me much, but on late nights that drew too long, I could piece together his broken muttering...
He wished it was me instead.
In the beginning, it hurt. I only had the old man, and he could barely stand to look at me without filling up with rage. He was all I could rely on, but I couldn't do so much as earn myself a slap in the head for being close-by. I wanted to learn from him, but all I knew was pain and abandonment, because that what I did to him.
I had ruined his perfect life. His beautiful house was worn out and weathered because of me. His warm home was hostile and angry. Everything he loved, cared for, and worked so hard to create for the future, not just for himself, but for his family-to-be was destroyed by me.
At first, I felt bad. I was sorry. I didn't know what I could do, if anything, to salvage our relationship. I wanted to rush into his arms and tell him I never meant to hurt him. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never wanted to rip out his heart. I wanted to tell him I loved him and, together me and him, we could be happy. We could be overworked and tired, but be happy. We could still have a future to build to, but he refused. To him, there was almost no use. It was as if he main objective as a father, was not raise and guide a young boy into a man, but to remind him of the hell he brought with him and to build a monster.
It didn't long for those feelings to fade away. It wasn't too much longer before I felt I didn't need a father anymore. The wounds scabbed over and dulled away. Eventually, there was just an old man I lived with – not a father, but a roommate. I lived with a tragic echo that made sure I could never take a step or breath without reminding of the cruelty of nature.
He spoke of the sick, twisted, world we lived in. He spoke of jokes no one laughed at. No one was allowed too much pleasure, he would say. No one was allowed to be happy for too long. Mother Nature was a cold-hearted bitch, and her cruel hands knew no prejudice. If nothing else, I was a constant reminder of this, and it agitated him.
This world was rough, but we could be rougher, he said, so the toys went. Fight back, he would shout, when I came home for dinner with a puffy lip. How much more do you need from me, he would ask, although I never understood his question until much later. So I stopped asking and I started fighting, and where I thought a disruptive little boy would tear a home apart, it did little different in ours.
Teachers and later policemen would ask the old man what would possess me to be so aggressive and unfriendly, and he often gave little excuse or explanation. He's fucked up in the head, he would say, just full of hell. He's got a real knack for destruction. He's knows nothing else. Words, overheard, were probably meant to insult me, but I took them as back-handed compliments, or rather standards I was to live by. Yeah, I am fucked up in the head. Yeah, I am full of hell. Yeah, I know how a thing or two about destroying life, and I couldn't give a fuck about anything else...
Some of us were just made for that sort of shit.
Years later, I couldn't give a fuck about this man and his perfect fucking home. I couldn't care about his plans for the future or what he dreamt of in his sleep. I couldn't care about those who he loved. There came a point where I so desperately wanted to put the nail in the coffin. I so wanted to show him what sort of monster he help create, but some weakness inside me – some sort of sick mercy kept certain words off my tongue. Perhaps I wasn't done with him. Perhaps I haven't done enough. Perhaps there was a better time. The world still stands after all. I suppose when there is nothing left to see and stand together with walls fire surrounding us, I'll tell him...
I'll tell him I wish there was a way I could have killed him in childbirth as well.
To be honest, it wouldn't really bother him. I know this, because we are very similar people now, and I see such a statement as nothing but wasted breath. It's unnecessary now. What's done is done, and for us, there's nothing lower. Nothing can be done to change anything that has been done. There is nothing built to protect. There is no dream to fight for. There is no promise or future. There is only darkness and hatred. There is only bitterness and cruelty. There is only evil in this world, at least for us. I know this for him because we were tied together. We were attached. Umbilically, we were strapped together, and together, we are alone.
Seth, you've sentenced me to a Strap Match, and I plead guilty in the first degree. Be the tall oak branch I can hang from. Be the anchor to sink this wretch to the bottom of the sea. Be the one that satisfies the old man, and quell his bloodlust. End my path of destruction and put me down, Seth, because, make no mistake, if you don't, you can watch your precious Imperial Wresting crumble around you. Your path and your stage for revenge will dissolve in a cloud of smoke and chaos. You will fail your precious, darling, who-gives-a-fuck, and you will be haunted by the soundtrack of my laughter.
Don't think of yourself that special. You're not. You're nothing of a priority to me. You're a segment. You're a piece of the puzzle. You're but a single brick that I plan to remove, so when I detonate the charges, Imperial will be paralyzed in terror with how little it had to stand on. Then, gamer, this whole house of cards will come down. Kings, queens, aces, and jerk-offs - every remnant – will be driven into disrepair. It all comes apart, like your ridiculous notion of revenge.
I don't hate you, Seth. You're numb as hell, but I don't hate you. You're the confident type that makes me clench a tight fist and hope you'd wake up out of a coma little less self-righteous. You boy scouts piss me off incessantly, but only because you refuse to see the world away from your kaleidoscopic slant. You refuse to see the world for what it is. You neglect the indifferent heart of Mother Earth and her cold embrace. You see the light but ignore the shadow it casts, just past the safety of your guiltless promise. If only you saw – if only you could see things my way – I wouldn't have to do this to you. I wouldn't have to force you to see...
You need me.
For a moment, Seth, let's imagine there was no Kevin Evel in the way. For argument’s sake, let's say there is no one – no one but you and your god-devil. You two are standing above oblivion. There is no Age of X or anyone that oppose them. It's just you two, and endless darkness.
There, pour your hatred into that man. Empty your tortured heart into rage and deliver judgement like none other. Take your demon to the ground and strike the face that's been haunting your every dream. Shout your damnation at the top of your lungs. Lose your breath in a wave of tears and blood splatter, and as your lungs burn for a moment to inhale, fight off the urge until you know the devil has stopped his. Destroy him, Seth! Exact your revenge! Do it! Do it! Do it! Damn you, Seth, do it!
But then what?
What then, Seth? What happens when you draw and quarter your nemesis? What's going to happen next? Will the world be returned to peace? Will all the pain and suffering be erased? Will you turn back the hands of time? Will it repair the damage done? Will it give you a second chance to do it right the first time?
Will you be happy?
You'll give me that shit-eating smile of a response, at first, but we all know how aching hearts feel. It's why everyone here hates to see me smile to much. They know why I can't stop. Everything is such a fucking joke. Everyone thinks their little lives are so important and valuable. They think their families are worth fighting for. They think legacies last long enough to destroy each other in the ring every week, but nothing matters. Nothing matters at all. Eventually, the survival rate of everything reaches zero. Despite our hardest efforts, everything we prize and hold so dear turns to ashes in our hands...
So why fight it?
Why cling onto the your last vestiges of innocence and morality? It won't save you. It won't correct anything. If anything else, you'll realize the tremendous amount of time you wasted chasing to fix something that never had a cure.
Let me do you and your nice, little, lady a favor and let me stop you from wasting you time anymore. Forget your vengeful ways. Forget the past and move on to the future. Forget worrying about correcting the damage done and fill your present and future with better days. Fill the rest of your lives together with happiness, far, far, away. Let me help you remove you from this, because you wondered it yourself, what were you before this?
What were you before Angel?
Nothing, was it? Was it nothing you said? If you were truly nothing before this, is that not what you'll become after? When your dragon is slain, what will you become? What will you be reduced to? If nothing else, you should fall to your knees Angel gave you meaning to your pathetic, miserable, life. If you were nothing, you should be thankful his violence entered your life and gave life to your bleeding heart that was otherwise dead.
Just turn around and go away, Evans. There is nothing in this direction that works in your benefit. There is nothing but heartache here. There is nothing but frustration and hatred. There is nothing but the cold heart of nature. There's nothing but what is needed. Continuing on only guarantees two things: that you truly do not want to introduce any happiness into your life and that you understand you need the darkness just as much as you need your light...
You need us - more than your woman.
I hope you're starting to understand my words now, Seth. I hope you're starting to see. Do you see how the steel sharpens the steel, and without it, you're quite the dull blade? I think you do, which is why I think you have no business with Angel or the Age of X. You shout a lot of nonsense and make a lot of threats, but you really have no plans to bring them any real harm. You'll spare them. You'll make some silly point that you're the bigger man, but the honest truth is that you never wanted to destroy anything. You never really wanted revenge. You don't want to punish anyone, because you don't want to cash in all this motivation and meaning. You don't really want to rid yourself of all this justification.
This is where we are so different, Seth. This is why I feel so sorry for you. This is why I came to you with such harshness and violence. I have to do this for you – you need it – because you don't see, where I am needed in this world to balance the dark from the light, you need the dark. You are needed only to you own lies. You are only necessary to a fabricated world where revenge brings you peace and solace, and we know it won't. Otherwise, you are nothing, and in other words, you're not needed. You're unnecessary...
And you need to go.
You can trust me to do that for you, Seth. You can rely on me to make the hard choices, the rest of the these so-called friends and allies wouldn't do for you. They see you struggling to hold on to the last strands of humanity, and they do nothing. They watch but don't move. True friends they are, I am sure, but maybe you're not in the market for one of those sort of friends. Maybe you don't need a friend more than you need someone who actually cares – someone who sees the damage you're doing to yourself and the ones around you and has the bravery and mercy to end it for you.
That's me, Evans. I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't allow you to do it to yourself. That sort of self-destruction and illogical purpose, well, it's unnecessary. It's not needed. You don't need it, and you shouldn't be bothered to have it. Let's be honest, you'll be happy without it. You and your little, lady, can move on from all this and start fresh. This one thing you have with Angel doesn't have to control every breath you take. You can escape it, because it'll either kill you or you'll become nothing once you complete it. There are alternatives.
You're the depressed kid that takes a little too many pills and mixes it with a little too much alcohol. You wish it's your last day on this wretched earth, but you either wake up in bed perfectly fine or you're again in the emergency room getting detoxed. You try and try and try to end it all, but it just doesn't happen. It's to the point your failure to even end your own life makes you more depressed, so before it gets to that level, let me help you. Let me introduce some mercy and thoughtfulness into you life. Let me help you end it.
The rest of the locker room wouldn't do this for you. People like Mike would worry their reputations would be tarnished, helping you in this sort. They would wonder what the rest of the world would think of them. Would they still be cheered, they would wonder. Would they still like me? Here's the thing, Seth: I don't care about them. I don't if they cheer or boo. I don't care what is said behind my back or muttered under their breaths. I only care about your life and the life of your lady. You too deserve better than this...
You need better than this.
I'm a shadow. I'm a monster. I know I am not liked around here. I know I am not wanted and I really get under some people's skin, but I don't care. I know I have a purpose and I know my job is priceless to those who need it. I am the grim reaper that the sickest grandparents smile and praise when he finally arrives in the hospital room. I am the coma that spares you from the pain. I am the needle of death that painlessly puts you to an eternal sleep. I am the quickest of neck snaps. I am a blessing to the most desperate, and you know you're exactly the sort.
Evans, guess how many Angel Blake's there are in the world? Guess how many vile creatures lurk around every corner? I know I don't have to tell you this world is crawling with such filth. He's a dime a dozen, Seth, but there's only one of you. Don't waste the only you you have on just one version of something that's walked this stupid planet a million times before. It's not worth it.
Even I know I am not one of a kind. My voice is nothing new. I speak now on my own, but you also hear me deep inside your own mind. The voices of reason that battle inside your mind reflect the words I suggest to you now. What I plea to you is nothing new. What I've said you've said to yourself a hundred times already. It's already made it's course, circling your mind. It's already kept you up late at night. It's haunted you, every time you wonder what is the right thing to do.
Fuck it all, Seth. Burn it all down to the ground, Seth. That's the right thing to do. Run away. Run away, holding hands with your love and never look back. Don't turn around. Never mind the screams and the blasts, never mind the laughing, just run and think of your future. Just run forward and be happy, because some of us are not as lucky as you. Some of us are not born lucky. Some of us are not given the chance to run away. Some of us are tied down to conflict and destruction. Some of us were born never given a chance.
I was born into a world that detested me, Mr. Seth Evans. Do you have any idea what that's like? Even for a fucking second, can you wrap that stupid, fucking, mind around the pain and trauma that does to a young kid, like I was? Do you think for a fucking second I would have ran away, if I could? Do you think for a fucking second I would have embraced the love of another, if I had any? I would have, Seth. Given the chance, I would have traded spots with someone lucky like you. I would have traded my best days for your worst. I would have killed to have your life. Right now, I wish I you, presented the opportunity to change directions before things get worse.
But I am not, Seth! I am Kevin Scum-Sucking Evengelos and no matter how evil I fucking want to be, it's never as fucking demonic as taking your own flesh and blood and turning him into this. I am what I am and I'll never have the opportunity to be anything else. I am marked for death. I am unfortunate. I am the child of not loving parents, but revenge and vindication. I was not brought into a family that loved me and cherished me. I shattered one upon arrival and brought upon the wrath of the world to have mine shattered as payment. I was spat upon. I was hit. I was degraded and driven through a mold that formed me into what you now call this human cancer as Kevin Evel.
Now I am what I am. I am a mutant. I am a deformed mess of shambling aggression, exiled from the warmth of the light. I was cast out and expelled, never to be invited back. I call the dark home now and I keep my hands warm off the furnaces of hell.
At October Revolution, Seth, you best believe you will be chained and hooked to the scariest thing you've ever seen in your life, and you best believe I will come for your throat. I won't spare a second on you, Seth, because it's that dire. You don't have to fail yourself and your woman. You don't have to fail your future. You still have one. You still have the option to stop it all. It's not late. It's never too late for someone lucky like you. You still have so much promise. You will still be accepted in the light, just turn around and run...
I'll make you, if I have to.
I'll tear you apart before I let you turn yourself into nothing. I'll put you in a body cast before I let you put yourself in a body bag. I'll fight you until the end of time, just so you can have a better future. Seth, you don't see it like me. It doesn't have to happen like this...
Imagine it, Seth. Imagine you escaped this burning building before it collapsed on you. Imagine you're far away with your lady. Imagine all the video games you two could play together, laughing and mashing buttons. Even on your darkest days together, when the heaviest rain and wind takes the power out, when all the darkest topics are brought back up to the surface, it'll be better then. Even when the rain hits the windows and she brings up Imperial Wrestling and Angel, and you don't know exactly what to say. You stutter and fade away from thought. The guilt would paralyze you, but just as you start to regret your choice, her soft head rests on your shoulder and tells you she's proud of you. You failed her, you'd say, you were a coward, but she wouldn't agree. There is evil all around us, she would tell you. There is evil just inches off our loving embrace, but you chose to spend our time together instead of fighting it all off.
It's funny, she'll laugh, Kevin Evel breaking your neck was the best thing that could have ever happened to us. You would have never listened otherwise. He's a big asshole and he never had a good thing to say about anyone, but he has his reasons. He's a tortured soul. He killed his mother in childbirth, you know that? And even stranger his father never forgave him for it. Now that's what's truly horrible. I'm so glad we were never that unfortunate. We were lucky to have the choice to change our lives for the better. We were lucky to ever run into Evel. What he did for us wasn't the most elegant or conventional, but you know, Seth Honey, if nothing else, we both know, in his own twisted, sick, way...
IT WAS NECESSARY!
Well howdy there pardner.